


Way of the Warrior

by Rejar



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic, Gen, Humor, Less Tennis, Light-Hearted, More Sleeping in Class, Tarundoru
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rejar/pseuds/Rejar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There aren't many people who would deliberately oppose Sanada Genichirou but to his immense misfortune there is one, and that one is enough to last him a lifetime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Exception to the Rule

"Minamoto."

There aren't many people who would deliberately oppose Sanada Genichirou; Emperor of the tennis courts, stoic and elitist perfectionist to the core—a man that values the traditional concepts of honor and resolve more than the whimsical, teenage needs of his age-matched classmates.

Yet, there are always exceptions to the rule.

He looms his full six feet over the desk in question. "Minamoto Masako."

At the mention of her name said girl does not so much as move an _inch_.

Renji and Seiichi, their occasional leeway he could understand. The three of them have always been close and between friends, joking and jesting is common. The jumpy behavior of the regulars from Rikkaidai's famous Tennis Club that he is a proud vice-captain of he could come to accept and understand as well—while they aren't as close, he has come to form firm ties with the boys even if he has to keep a tight leash on some. He needn't their bad behavior to reflect back negatively on him nor Yukimura.

He has learned to respect his elders and tries to be a model student, never failing in his duty to study well and he tries to keep his grades as best as he strives for. So long as neither his teacher nor fellow students are actively trying to hinder his progress he maintains a polite and obliging relationship to most while keeping his distance to the rascals slacking off. Stay in wrong company for too long and you will be dragged down before you know it.

Again, there are always exceptions to the rule. Minamoto Masako is his.

Feeling his patience run thin, he switches to the loud voice normally reserved for training purposes. He slams his fist into the desk that all heads turn. "Minamoto Masako, wake up this instant or there will be consequences to face!"

She startles from her sleep, "Present!", dark eyes blinking rapidly against the harsh light before she rubs her face awake. Black hair sticking out to all sides, her gaze eventually settles on him.

And the disappointed pout comes to her lips almost instantly. "Wha—it's just you, Sanada."

There aren't many people who would deliberately oppose him but to his immense misfortune there is one, and that one is enough to last him a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This plot bunny came to me and won't leave me alone. Sanada has such a rich inner voice that I couldn't resist. I have the _very rough_ outlines already planned out. This will be a light-hearted tale, no longer than 500 words a chapter, and—I'm sorry, Sanada—updated completely based on my whims and when the muse hits me over the head particularly hard.
> 
> Last but not least: I don't own _Prince of Tennis_ in any way or shape. Let's rumble!


	2. Patience

When morning classes are over and it's time to change rooms their homeroom teacher usually makes his way over to him, drawing his attention with the barest rap of his knuckles against the desk. "Sanada-kun," he starts, eyes shifting expectantly to the side. "Could you please make sure...?"

All Sanada does is shove the rest of his books into his bag. "Of course." Then he travels the short distance to Minamoto's desk again.

Why, one might ask, does he brake his pace for the lazy bum when he clearly tries to draw a line between him and the sluggish student body? There are many reasons, one of them being that it is a teacher's request and he has been taught to respect an elder's wishes. Even if he knows that Noriyama-sensei makes sure to place the two of them in the same class with every new school year simply for his and every other teacher's convenience.

Sanada is the only one that manages to wake the dozing girl up without having to resort to some form of violence.

Teachers aren't allowed to get rough on the students and neither is it permitted for students to do so under their guidance. The school's rules are adamant in both cases. It doesn't leave a lot of room left for debating, and, for better or for worse, he is stuck as the babysitter.

"Minamoto," he says and she stirs, curling every vertebrae in her back as she gets up before yawning into his face. He would not reprimand her. It's a waste of energy he has come to associate with her. "Pack your stuff. Sensei wants to lock the door."

Minamoto squints her dark gray eyes at him. "Classical Literature already over?"

"You slept through the better part of it."

"What a bummer." She stretches again and somewhere a bone pops loudly back in place. Abruptly she stands, only half a feet smaller than him now. "Shall we then?"

He looks her over. "Are you not going to take anything with you?"

Minamoto blinks. "It's just Calligraphy. I don't need my pencil case."

"It's just—" Sanada gulps down the rising ball of indignation. "We have been practicing the art of traditional ink mixing for the past two weeks now. You are supposed to _at least_ bring your own inkstick."

"Oh." Her mouth opens in a perfect circle. "Something about bonding with your tool, I think I remember..." It's her turn to muster him before settling on meeting his gaze head-on. "It's in my bag. Which I forgot at home," she answers candidly.

Then, "Got a spare?"

The ball of indignation burns alight with restrained flames of fury suddenly licking and spreading all over its surface. Sanada tries his best not to show his inner fight outwardly. " _Tarundoru...!_ "

During Calligraphy classes Sanada decides to take a leaf out of Seiichi's book and draws a long, never-ending line of a single _kanji_ on his sheet of paper: _patience_.


	3. Rectification

Occasionally he wonders if she—or perhaps their teachers—chooses her morning classes deliberately to be the same as his. Because by the time fourth period is over and gives way to lunch break, Sanada's watchful presence is no longer needed. Minamoto perks up the closer the clock ticks to twelve and is usually among the first to stand in queue for food.

And because she has left all her things at home, she is standing there with _his_ wallet in hand. Seiichi chuckles behind him. "I sometimes wonder if she's just another trickster we have simply overlooked."

"Not at all. This is her true self—is what you wanted to say," Renji offers, eyes close as always but lips twitching upward with something that is _most definitely_ amusement.

At his expense.

Sanada nods and closes his own eyes. He feels more exhausted than usual.

"You look tired. Ever think of taking a nap? Does wonders to your body, I hear." His eyes snap open to a familiar wallet dangling in front of his nose and a wide, teeth-flashing grin.

Again Seiichi has difficulties holding back his laughter. For someone acting the role model Captain he could be very lax. "I... appreciate the concern," Sanada manages, snatching his wallet from her fingers. She is one to talk, sleeping constantly—

Minamoto claps him on the arm twice, jocular grin turning into a sincere smile. "Thanks. You saved my life today."

And if there ever is another chance to make the girl understand and _grow_ out of her slacking behavior, to better her habits and improve on her own self, it has presented itself to him now. Else he'd have another Calligraphy disaster at hand in the coming future.

A one-sided one, because Minamoto is not the one on the verge of throttling someone. Unlike him in that situation.

"Try to better yourself, Minamoto. I won't be there forever." Sanada has the urge to correct his cap but he is only wearing it during tennis practice. It feels like second nature to reprimand people only with his cap on because he usually does so only during training. Another prime example of the exception to the rule.

But the girl is already halfway across the cafeteria, waving her goodbyes. "Yes, yes and I'll repay you tomorrow or some other day."

He takes a very deep breath.

"I'm no longer sure if she does it on purpose or not—is what you wanted to say," Renji hums. Sanada shoots him a silencing glare.


	4. The Reason

"Why do you keep on hanging around that girl?"

He remembers the first time he's been asked that question as if it were yesterday. Marui, the Tennis Club's self-proclaimed genius and acrobat, has been the one to ask it. With a nosy smile and a playful nudge to Sanada's ribs, because they were first-years at the time and Marui didn't know any better, he's also added a "Do you like her?" to his previous question.

Suffice it to say that it's the first time his telltale _tarundoru_ has been unleashed during tennis practice.

There is certainly no amount of _liking_ involved in their acquaintanceship. With his mind wholly preoccupied with tennis and upcoming tournaments, he has no time for idle fantasies concerning love nor does he wish to engage in such frivolous behavior.

Especially not with a girl like Minamoto Masako.

Sanada has known her for most of his life as they've been through primary school together before entering Rikkaidai as middleschoolers. She was not always like this. There was a time where her name ranked among the first of their year and she would always be punctual, sometimes much earlier than even the teachers, always in an attempt to become the first at _anything_ she's set her mind on.

True, all of this has only applied to the duration of primary school but he finds it impossible to think that she could have forgotten and foregone her past drive entirely.

Watching her sleeping form slip further and further down the slope of a desultory lifestyle he is soon convinced otherwise. Children should be taught properly to be able to withstand teenage whims as to avoid this fate.

He has his personal goals set before him. It's what keeps him going forward. Not the temporary caprice of staying up late at night playing games or watching television.

That is why he does not, in any way or shape, _like_ her. He keeps close to her for an entirely different yet similar reason.

The answer lies hidden away in after-school activities; when he wraps up both his Committee meetings and afternoon tennis practice. It's when he comes home with the late sun setting behind him on the horizon, and slips out of his shoes to cross the living areas and enter his family's dōjō, that he finds her presence still lingering inside, still swinging her blade through the empty air with the silent cutting of years of practice when even the last of their most diligent students has long since left.

Minamoto Masako is a lazy, irresponsible and audacious girl that he would not associate with under any given circumstances. But here her ambition knows no bounds and he is reminded of the girl in his memory, the one always striving to be the first. In moments like these he forgets her wrongdoings and watches her with a respect reserved for very few; mesmerized by the dance of her blade.

She is by far the best _kendōka_ he's ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people who practice kendo are called _kendōka_. And now the title ot this fic suddenly makes more sense!


	5. Endless Loop

Daily routine is the Alpha and Omega to Sanada.

He gets up as early as the first ray of light hits his room to start with a calming session of _Zazen_. Meditation helps him stay focused and concentrated throughout the day by erasing whatever leftover tensions he has carried into his sleep the night before.

Eventual breakfast with his family wraps the early morning routine up before he heads out for school.

The Tennis Club's regulars slowly trickle in one by one to morning practice with varying degrees of enthusiasm carved into their faces. The ones that are usually the latest are either Akaya or Niou.

It's quick training, only a brief sort of warm-up to help the regulars prepare for afternoon practice: they go through coordinated drills, maybe play a couple of easy, lighthearted matches. Both he and Seiichi agree that exhausting them too much early on isn't of benefit to anyone.

Ever the diligent student Sanada then does his voluntary rounds within school grounds for the Disciplinary Committee he is also part of. Sometimes he finds the occasional suspicious students lingering about, once even a small group of boys that tried out smoking behind the gym.

He manages to report any incidents before classes start and is rarely late.

And once classes do actually start...

"Uhm, Sanada-kun," their tiny English teacher calls out, righting the large glasses on her nose. She raises a stack of papers. "We are going to write a test now. Could you please wake up Minamoto-chan?"

Once classes start he is back to his babysitting job by the time he enters the classroom. Maybe it's just a recurring dream of his that she can swing the sword as if she were born with it.

Sanada turns to his right, towards the dozing neighbor of his. "Minamoto." Nothing. "Minamoto Masako." All he gets is some sort of disturbed snort that only manages to make a forlorn strand of black hair slip to the side.

Without morning meditation he would probably explode from the audacity. Instead, he rams his fist into her table. "Minamoto, you're slacking off again!"

Her head shoots up. "The square root of Pi is takoyaki!" She doesn't even register the eyes of the rest of the class on her as she blinks perplexed at the female teacher standing in front of the blackboard, reality catching up with every cogwheel he hears spinning back into motion inside her head. "Wait, this is English, isn't it?"

Why, indeed, _it is_.

And all the respect she's earned plummets into the abyss as they settle back into their daily life routine and Sanada thinks about new ways to return the girl on the path of righteousness.


	6. A Peek into the Past, I

Sanada Genichirou is four years old when he picks up two very different kinds of sports: kendo, because it's a family tradition; and tennis, because he is interested in it.

Within the course of six months he's grown into an ardent and headstrong individual in both activties and gets paired up with the older kids more often than not. Sanada is proud of his abilities.

He earns two very different kinds of friends along the way, too.

One of them is called Yukimura Seiichi; a soft-looking, wiry, fair-skinned boy he's immediately mistaken for a girl. And since his mother taught him to treat girls nicer than boys, Sanada lets the indigo-haired boy sit in the bus while he stands even though he's exhausted, and since Yukimura is a fairly new member of the Tennis Club, he tries to keep his play as easy for his opponent as possible.

Yukimura Seiichi completely destroys him in their very first match. And Sanada, unable to do something about it, because how is he supposed to react to a girl winning?, escapes into the changing rooms after training and fumes silently.

With a horrified expression he notices Yukimura enter the same changing rooms shortly after him. And when the girl—boy!—takes off his shirt, Sanada's jaw drops. Yukimura smiles.

That's how they become friends in rivalry.

Soon after this meeting, Sanada meets his second childhood friend. Minamoto Masako is all that Yukimura isn't.

"I want a bigger opponent."

Four-year-old Sanada whips his head around at the sound of the childish voice. Training between adults and children is divided for one reason: discipline. Nobody is to complain about a lack of opponent in a dōjō, least of all while directly standing in front of the master: his grandfather.

She is tiny compared to him, with chubby cheeks and thin eyebrows. Her eyes spark with a very livid determination. Grandfather takes note of that as well. "Why?" he asks.

"Because I'm better than them." She points at the boys training their swings, which includes Sanada as well. He doesn't take lightly to that. She's too greedy.

"Truly," Grandfather says, "but they have one thing that you don't." Sanada returns to his swings, proud at the way his grandfather handles the insolent girl. He knows what comes next. " _Patience_."

Minamoto groans as she is sent to meditate in a corner. Grandfather makes his rounds and stops next to Sanada. "She has the spirit of a great warrior. Wild maybe, but tameable. Watch yourself, young boy, or one day she will overtake you."

Sanada doubles his efforts from then on. He can't let a girl beat him. He's almost been through that with Yukimura.


	7. Complimentary Friends

For good or for ill, Sanada has had to grow up with his closest friends since a young age. When he and Yukimura eventually meet Yanagi Renji, their trio seems to round up perfectly.

It's because of their long association The Emperor is so forgiving towards them. They can make fun of him and, as long as it stays in good will, he will brave it like a man should. He owes them that much for all the years they've spent together. Sanada Genichirou respects his closest friends on the same level as he does his family.

Sadly, he can't take control over how _they_ behave around each other.

"Yuki-chi." Sanada is willing to strangle her already. That is not how one should adress the Child of God! "There's a girl in my class that wants you to have this."

Yukimura takes the small, wrapped box from Minamoto's outstretched hand. "Tell her thanks from me, would you, Masa-chan?"

Minamoto nods and manages to make the gesture look as bored as she is of the classes she constantly sleeps in.

Sanada has also never quite liked the way Yukimura picks up on the naming convention and calls her _Masa-chan_ out of all things. It implies a familiarity those two should never have, even if they, technically, grew up together, too. Minamoto is too lazy to deserve that.

Long bangs fall into her eyes. She grabs the black hair between her fingers and inspects it. "How about it, Yana-jiji*? You always cut my hair best. As in free of charge."

Yanagi inclines his head. "We can cut it right after tennis training today." She smiles but Sanada is not about to let her off this easily.

"You realize he's the same age as you, Minamoto," Sanada says. "You can't call him 'old man' like that."

"Well," she drawls out, mustering the Data master from head to toe, "but he's always been so tall and stern. Like your old man."

"Are you insulting my grandfather now?"

"Of course not. I'm still _patiently_ waiting for my time to strike him down."

All the discipline in the world hasn't managed to tame this girl. It seems that the task has been passed down onto him now. That old man should have warned him—

Now he's calling him old man himself.

"Isn't Genichirou the same, though? Very stern and stoic," Seiichi offers, wholly ignoring Sanada's glare.

"He forbade me to wrangle his name." She pouts. It doesn't reach her eyes.

Yukimura's eyes flicker with mischief. "That wouldn't hinder _you_ , Masa-chan."

"Seiichi..."

"Of course not." There's a pause. "Gen-chan-rôshi*. Because he always says how much more mature he is."

Yanagi coughs to hide his amusement. Yukimura turns away from the group, trembling with laughter while Sanada wishes he's never met the indigo-haired boy. Or the girl for that matter.

Mostly the girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _jiji_ is the rude way of calling an elderly male person, well, 'old'. It should only be used between family members or someone you're close to because otherwise it's offending. You've heard it in anime every once in a while, when someone calls their father 'old man'.
> 
> * _rôshi_ is a honorific title used for a highly venerated senior teacher in Zen Buddhism. And since Sanada has his daily round of Zen meditation... _-chan_ is of course a cute suffix. It kind of breaks the whole honorable name.


	8. Common Sight

Returning home after a thriving tennis practice with his team is the most rejuvenating. Sanada feels a bloating pride swell inside his chest whenever he notes how well hard work pays off for them. Not that he is ever going to openly confess it.

His mother peeks her head out from the dining room with a warm smile. "Welcome home."

He angles his head in a curt bow, "I'm home," when he catches sight of something most common. "How long are they at it this time?" he asks his mother. He's too tired to feel bothered by the visitor.

She follows his gaze. "For the past three hours, I believe. Your grandfather is preparing for another game with Tezuka-san this weekend. You know how he doesn't like to lose to him."

Sanada knows. What he doesn't know is how Minamoto manages to sit still for three hours and not fall asleep the way she does at school.

She's playing shōgi with his grandfather.

Again.

The match proceeds silently bar the faint _click_ of wooden pieces moving across the board. Grandfather draws a hand through the white stubble on his chin, brows furrowed in thought. Minamoto waits patiently on him, legs folded beneath her upper body in a perfectly executed _seiza_ * tradition.

"Is Masako-chan going to eat with us tonight?" Mother asks.

It's not like he has a choice in the matter. In school he is forced to look after her. Inside the dōjō they are opponents on par with one another.

But in the living room with his mother present? That's when they're considered best friends ever since they're toddling four-year-olds, because the one time he's tried to explain his mother why Minamoto's grades have dropped ("She's lazy and doesn't even bother to remember the teacher's name!"), she threatened to whack him with his own practice sword if he did not give the girl extra lessons after school.

He doesn't want to give Minamoto extra lessons _ever again_. Horrors linger in those far-away memories that are better left unspoken.

Instead of tempting fate, Sanada chooses to shrug. "I guess so."

Then he heads over to the bathroom for a shower. Maybe she'll be gone by the time he's done because the rejuvenating pride inside his chest is quickly draining. And he's sure it's because of her weird black-and-white nature and the fact that, no matter what he does, he simply can't escape her. In school it's because of the teachers. Inside the dōjō because of her skill. In his home because of his family.

And inside him there is a part that is just so used to her presence, he doesn't even mind it sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*seiza_ is a kneeling sitting position, in which you tuck your legs beneath your body to sit. This can get tiring if you're not used to it, as your legs can fall asleep easily. For a very formal execution your head is raised and your back completely straight. If you've ever been to a tea ceremony, you'll have seen how it looks.


End file.
